7th Year
by beat89
Summary: Post DH. Harry, Ron, and Hermione head back to Hogwarts with Ginny to take their 7th year after defeating Voldemort. Deathly Hallows spoilers.
1. Summer Wishes

**A/N: This is a 7th year story with Harry, post DH. The tiro's going back to Hogwarts (They never took their 7th year, after all), although they don't know it yet. The first couple chapters are a little short and slow, but as any Harry Potter fan knows, it all gets better when they get to that castle ;) so, read and review please! (But be nice :D)**

**(Lame title is the result of my lack of imagination) **

---

A tall, dark haired, teenager was groaning, as he lay in his bed, awakening to the most unwelcome sound of roosters crowing in the morning. Turning over in his bed, the teenager reached over, and lethargically flopped a hand down upon the bedside table, where it slowly feeling around for the snooze button on it's alarm clock. Feeling rather annoyed that he had not yet managed to locate the source of the racket, he sat up; the hand beginning it's search anew for the boy's glasses. The glasses had been found within seconds, and as he put them on, Harry Potter brushed his fingers over the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Suddenly, Harry realized how very foolish of him it was to be searching for an alarm clock: he was not, as he had first thought, at number four Privet Drive, but in fact, at the wizarding abode of his friends, the Weasleys. This was Harry's third morning at the Burrow, but the fact had still not quite sunk in. It seemed simply strange to him that his summer holiday was _not_ being spent with his enemies the Dursleys, but, in fact, with his favorite group of people in either of his two worlds, the Weasley family.

Harry's groggy features bloomed into a brilliant smile as he looked to his right and saw Ron Weasley sleeping in the bed next to him; and his thoughts drifted several floors down, to where he knew her to be, in her brilliant blue bedroom, Ginny Weasley. Harry's smile spread to his eyes as he recalled standing in front of that window last summer, lost in her eyes, feeling that he hadn't a care in the world as she reached forward and placed her lips to his… Harry drifted happily through that memory as he rolled out of bed and began dressing himself, punch-drunk in his happiness, his mind flitting between Ginny and all that had happened in the last week.

The Battle of Hogwarts had left a terrible strain upon him, although Harry had emerged victorious, it seemed that the victory had come at too steep a cost. Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin Creevey, and many more of his friends and classmates all lay in a newly erected memorial on the Hogwarts grounds. After the defeat and the ensuing party, everyone had stayed at Hogwarts while a memorial service was prepared. Harry had mostly kept to the shadows, as now it seemed that wherever he went, there were people wanting to touch him, to talk to him, to praise him. Harry wanted no part of it, and he was truly grateful for his invisibility cloak during these long weeks. He spent most of his time with Ginny, holding her and stroking her hair while she cried on his shoulder. The loss of Fred had hit the family hard, and many of their classmates had met their end upon the battlefield as well. It was hard for all of them to cope, and then, more than ever, Harry was glad for his friends; they deadened the blow, and shared the grief of it among all of them.

Two weeks after the battle, a memorial site had been erected and a service was held. Each and every person that had given their life defending Hogwarts was laid to rest next to the tomb of Albus Dumbeldore, within which Harry had placed the Elder Wand, and mended, so no trace remained of it's heinous violation. It had been a stirring service, and Harry knew that even long after he had left Hogwarts, he would remember those who gave their lives for it. The bodies of the hundred Death Eaters lay just outside the gates, where their relatives could retrieve them, if they wished. The Ministry had taken Voldemort's body from the school, and no one could say for sure what they had done with it. Following the service, Harry had been approached by a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasey, who had insisted that Harry come stay with them until he sorted out where he went next. Flustered, but flattered, Harry had accepted, and he found himself here, at the Burrow, reveling at the thought that he could perhaps, enjoy his holiday now.

Harry shook back his head with a silent laugh, as he considered what lay ahead. Voldemort was dead, and this time, it was for good. He had his whole life ahead of him, and for the first time since he learned that he was a wizard, Harry felt as if he had no obligations. His future was free, and so was the wizarding world.

A sudden burst of happiness swarmed through Harry, and with a flourish of his wand, he sent Ron's covers flying into the air, revealing Ron's lanky frame, adorned with nothing but his bright orange Chudley Canons boxers. Harry suppressed a snigger at the sight, as Ron muttered, "Just five more minutes Mom…". Harry laughed, but it came out as more of a bark, and a shadow flickered across Harry's face as he remembered Sirius, falling gracefully through the Veil. Harry shook the image from his mind, determined to be enjoying himself for once on his summer holidays. "See you down stairs for breakfast Ron!" Harry yelled entirely too loudly, before bolting out of the door. Ron, for his part, muttered some obscured swear words t his pillow, before rolling over and falling out of his bed with a loud crash.

---

Mrs. Weasley's cooking was delicious as usual, although the table wasn't quite as lively as it used to be. Fred's empty spot seemed to be spreading it's depression to everyone, most of all George, who couldn't quite seem to cope without his second half. He spent five awkward minutes pushing his eggs from one side of his plate to the other, before finally fleeing the table under the pretense of a full bladder, and had not returned. Just as Harry was polishing off his third plate of bacon and eggs, he heard a faint pop outside the Burrow's back porch, as someone Apparated to the Weasley house.

Just as Harry was wondering who would be visiting the Weasleys right now, the door opened, and Harry saw Hermione's bushy brown hair rushing through the door, where she proceeded to hug Ron, give him a peck on the cheek, and continued on to hug Harry and Mrs. Weasley, quite enthusiastic to be back, it appeared.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny, rushing forward to greet her friend. Harry watched with mild interest, "What took you so long Hermione?" He asked bemusedly. Hermione had vanished directly after the memorial service at Hogwarts, and much to Ron's chagrin, she had told none of them where she was going. Harry knew she would be back, but he hadn't expected her this soon, to be perfectly honest.

"Oh, I was away in Australia, of course." Hermione said as a slightly annoyed look flitted across her face. "You didn't think my parents would break that enchantment on their own, did you?" Harry laughed. Hermione was still her normal bossy self. "No, of-" Harry started, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley.

"Your parents were in _Australia? _Under an_ enchantment?!" _Hermione blanched under Mrs. Weasley's penetrating gaze. "Well- you see… with Voldemort and all, and me and Ron going off with Harry, I thought it would be safest…" Hermione trailed off, a small plea in her voice that Mrs. Weasley would understand her plight.

Harry thought it best to avert the situation before things came to a head. "But why did it take so long?" Harry asked quickly. "You should have been back here long ago." After all, Hermione had become quite accomplished at Side-Along Apparition during their last year on the run from the Death Eaters. It was quite a necessary skill when almost every other means of transportation available was being watched by Voldemort.

"Harry!" said Hermione in exasperation. "You can't just Apparate to from country to county! That's much too dangerous; and you know I'm not comfortable on a broom. I had to go by muggle transportation- an airplane; Not exactly efficient." She grimaced, and Harry grinned inwardly. He knew how much it would have tortured Hermione while she was forced to ride on an airplane for hours instead of being able to instantaneously Apparate. While she once might have lived a happy life as a dentist or whatever profession she chose in the muggle world, Hermione had been spoiled beyond help by the wizarding world. He knew she would never be at home there again. They were very similar, him and her.

"An Aeropline?" Asked Mr. Weasley brightly, his eyes shining, "You'll have to tell me all about it later Hermione!" He exclaimed excitedly. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes and shared a knowing grin, while the rest of the Weasley's merely looked lost. They were clueless around muggle technology.

Mrs. Weasley shot Mr. Weasley a venomous look, telling him explicitly he would not be asking Hermione about anything at all except how her parents were. Mr. Weasley gave a little shrug that said, "Hey, I had to try," and turned back to his bacon, looking slightly disappointed. Harry was overwhelmed with affection for the man and his family right then, and he silently resolved to buy Mr. Weasley every book he could find about airplanes for Christmas.

"Anyway dear," said Mrs. Weasley, who was trying to wrest Hermione's bag away from her without much success, "You can bunk with Ginny. I'm sorry, but there's not much room here right now." She shook her head apologetically while Ginny bounced forward eagerly to show Hermione the way to her room, although surely Hermione had been here so often she had memorized the route to Ginny's room on the first landing, with it's brilliant blue hangings. Perhaps Ginny merely had something she wanted to talk about with Hermione, Harry thought with a smile. He waved at her as she disappeared in a flash of twirling red hair around the corner, and he heard their footfalls on the stairs a moment later.

He turned back to the rest of the Weasleys, some of them milling around the kitchen, some of them still finishing their breakfast. "Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Weasley," Harry said graciously, to which she casually waved a hand at. "It's nothing, really dear," she mumbled into her apron. Harry smiled at her, beckoned Ron, who was done, to come with him, and headed up the stairs to Ron's room beneath the attic, eager to escape being roped into helping with the clean-up by Mrs. Weasley.

When they reached Ron's room they both flopped down upon their covers, fighting the urge to fall asleep again. However comfortable it would be, Harry knew it to be pointless: Mrs. Weasley would have them all out of their beds mere minutes after they had fallen asleep again. Harry rolled over on his side and glanced sideways at Ron. He was lying on his bed, his hands folded over his face and clearly thinking. He figured this would be the perfect time to pop the question that had been floating around in his mind almost since the day Voldemort had died. "Ron?" Harry asked hesitantly. Ron did not move, and Harry grabbed a balled-up shirt from the trunk at the foot of his bed and heaved it at Ron. "Wake up mate!" Harry said, even though he knew Ron was not asleep.

"What is it?" Ron asked curiously, turning to face Harry, his red hair clashing against the brilliant orange of his bedspread.

"Well mate…" Harry began hesitantly, "It's about Ginny." He blushed a little, and Ron sat up slowly, a shrewd expression upon his face.

"Yeah…?" said Ron slowly, although he knew what was coming as clearly as though he had opened a window into Harry's mind through Legilimency.

"Well, you know, with Voldemort gone, things are much simpler now." Harry was unconsciously messing with his hair as he spoke, switching between mussing it up and attempting to flatten it. "And well… you know…" Harry trailed off.

Ron gave him a penetrating look, but the hint of a smile played around his mouth, unnoticed by the agitated Harry.

"I know she's your sister and all mate, but with Voldemort gone," Harry thought he was beginning to repeat himself now, so he simply stopped and looked up at Ron hopefully, putting his hands in his lap, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Ron grinned, and reached over to Harry's bed, where he slapped Harry on the back. "Mate, I don't think there's anyone better for her than the man who murdered Voldemort." Harry smiled, although he was on the edge of arguing Ron's terminology- he didn't much like being thought of as a murderer- but he thought better of it. Arguing about tact with Ron was like trying to tell Dudley that he should eat less.

Harry simply gave Ron a grateful nod. Not that Ron's consent was the last word to Harry, but he knew he would feel better if Ron was okay with him and Ginny. Harry was reminded of the promise he had made Ron on his birthday last year, ecstatic that he no longer had to honor his word.

Of course, Ginny was returning to Hogwarts, and Harry would be pursuing his career out in the wizarding world. There would be little time for romance for either of them, and Harry would be leaving the castle that he had come to regard as his home for the first time in his wizarding life. The thought caused his gut to clench, and he wished, for a moment, that he could return to that castle, with it's towering battlements, secret passageways, and shimmering ghosts just one last time. Harry closed his eyes as he treasured the prospect: back at Hogwarts, just one last time: Hogwarts with Ginny, Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione, Hogwarts, his home… And Harry drifted off to sleep with that singular thought in his head, unaware of the four large brown letters, adorned with a serpent, a badger, an eagle, and a lion, winging their way to the Burrow upon the wings of four elegant tawny owls even as he slept.

**A/N: Yay! First chapter done. That chat was bit cheesy, but it had to be done to set up later elements. Anyway, R & R please :)**


	2. The Final Letter

"Wake up" Harry found himself being gently shaken awake. He silently cursed himself for having fallen asleep, for he had never meant to. "'Mm all right," Harry mumbled into his pillow. Mrs. Weasley was shaking him awake, and as soon as she was sure he was awake, he knew she'd start browbeating him about work to be done, and how he couldn't _possibly_ sleep this late. But something was amiss here; this was not Mrs. Weasley's harsh handling of him, the voice was softer and the hands smaller. 

Harry rolled over lethargically, and slowly opened his eyes, seeing nothing but a muck of orange and red. He reached over on his small bedside table and felt blindly around for his glasses. His fingers closed firmly around them, and he hastily shoved them upon his face. He looked up into the face of Ginny Weasley, looking concernedly at Harry.

"You're a deep sleeper," She said, laughing her beautiful laugh.

"Ugh, Ginny?" Harry asked groggily, for he had not yet entirely come to his senses. "Why'd you wake me up?" he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Sleep seemed hard to come by in the past couple days, and he was holding onto every minute of it he could get.

"Your post's here," she said with a smile, looking down on him affectionately.

"Oh damn." Harry said, irritated. He had been receiving obscene amounts of post for the last few days. Wizards and witches from across Britain were writing to him now, sending their congratulations, offers for jobs, gold, well-wishes, and many other things. It had been quite embarrassing to return to the Burrow to find the entire kitchen table swarming with letters, some still attached to the legs of their owls, whom apparently would yield their charges to no one but Harry himself. The corner of Harry's room was littered with unread letters, for he found he simply couldn't bring himself to read all of them. It brought back memories of everyone who had died to achieve this, and Harry had been studiously avoiding them to avoid re-provoking his grief.

"I'll come get them," Harry said, yawning. "Anything interesting today?"

"Oh, maybe," said Ginny evasively.

"What'd you mean, 'maybe?'" asked Harry, his interest piqued.

"Oh, I think there might be something downstairs you'll enjoy," she said with an evasive grin. She winked at him mischievously, and half-walked, half-skipped out of the room and down the stairs.

Feeling seriously confused, Harry pulled on his socks, which he had never put on this morning, and stood up, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then heading downstairs, with curiosity bubbling within him at Ginny's odd words earlier.

Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all standing around a pile of what Harry presumed was his mail. Ginny was holding what Harry knew to be her Hogwarts letter, detailing the materials needed for her final year at school. Strangely, Ron and Hermione both appeared to be holding letters of their own. Harry approached them with a questioning look on his face; when he reached the table, Mrs. Weasley grabbed a fourth off of the top of the pile and handed it to Harry.

"Came just now dear," She said happily.

Ginny had torn into her envelope, but neither Ron, nor Hermione had opened theirs yet. Hermione wore a look of trepidation similar the day she received her O.W.L results, and Ron simply looked bemused. Hermione was muttering under her breath, "Oh I hope I did all right," she said agitatedly. Harry turned to her and asked quizzically, "What are you waiting for?"

Hermione blushed pink. "Well, I kinda- but it's much too soon!" This only deepened Harry's confusion, but Hermione's lips seemed to have sealed themselves, whether out of nerves or confusion, Harry couldn't tell.

"Looks like a Hogwarts letter…" Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.

"I know mate, but why'd Hogwarts send us letters?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Ginny's gotta go," he said airily, waving a hand towards his younger sister, "But we're done."

"Maybe we're not," Harry said as he ripped open his letter. He carefully unfolded the brown parchment and read aloud:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Our records indicate that you did not complete your school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during our last school term. Due to the unfortunate circumstances in the wizarding world last term, our regular schooling was disrupted. We would therefore be greatly pleased if you would return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to repeat your 7th year of magical education. NEWT year is extraordinarily important for your future in the magical world, and without your NEWT test results, many preferred magical careers will be unavailable to you. We will make accommodations for you and all others who could not complete their term last year if you agree to return. If you do not wish to return to Hogwarts School, we require written notice delivered to us by owl before July the 24th, otherwise we look forward to seeing you next term._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva Mcgonagall_

A smile blossomed upon Harry's face as he finished reading and looked up from his letter, looking around the kitchen. Clearly, from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, they had completely forgotten that they would be expected back at Hogwarts. After all, they had skipped their entire 7th year at school to hunt Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes, but he didn't think that returning to Hogwarts had exactly been on their minds while were breaking into Gringotts vaults and infiltrating the Ministry of Magic.

Harry looked from face to face around the kitchen as they each reacted to the news. Ginny's registered barely concealed happiness, and Harry thought he knew why. Mrs. Weasley was carefully neutral. Ron's had fallen comically; clearly he had been looking forward to being free of school for the first time in six years. Hermione, oddly enough, was frowning too. Harry could not see a situation in which Hermione would be depressed to return to Hogwarts, with it's giant library, and tomes of magical knowledge.

"Why the sad face Hermione?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Oh, well, you see… I took my NEWT tests at the ministry yesterday," she mumbled, the tips of her ears going red, just as Ron's did when he was embarrassed.

"You're mental," Ron groaned, shaking his head, and with a hint of incredulity in his voice. "You took the tests- even though you never took the courses?" Ron put his face in his hand, shaking it in an over-the-top manner. "Men-tal."

Harry giggled uncharacteristically, and Hermione turned quickly to give him a sharp look. "What?" she asked crossly.

"Nothing, said Harry, still smiling. "Bet you aced them all huh?" he joked.

Hermione mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "I know I'll fail," which simply amused Harry more, but he bit his tongue. "I haven't got my results yet," she said, her voice gaining confidence. "I thought this might be them-" she waved her letter threateningly under his nose- "but it's obviously not." She sounded disappointed, but just then it appeared an idea budded in her mind.

"Do you think they'll let me re-take them if I take the coursework?" Hermione asked nervously.

Ron smiled at her, and draped his arm around her back in a way Harry was sure he had lifted directly from _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. "Of course they will," he said in a soothing voice, and Hermione immediately turned around and gave him an bright white smile, looking soothed. Harry _really _needed to check out that book.

"Well, that's a pleasant surprise," Mrs. Weasley said. "You know, I always said last summer, you three really need to finish you education, good and proper. None of that adventuring stuff- no, what you need is a good, solid school, with walls to contain you and teachers to keep an eye on you." Mrs. Weasley waved a disapproving finger at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom had the good grace to look ashamed, although Harry shared a knowing look with Ron. Teachers and walls had never stopped them for long in the past; the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map saw to that. "Now you all have the chance to go back and finish it right," Mrs. Weasley said, looking happy.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry's book list, which had drifted to the floor, unheeded. "Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her face falling. "Looks like there's quite a lot of new equipment we'll have to get this year…" She slowed into silence, and Harry knew her thoughts were drifting to the Weasley's tiny vault in Gringotts, with its small pile of silver Sickles and bronze Knuts, sparkled only with the occasion gold Galleon.

"I'll front it Mrs. Weasley," said Harry generously.

"Oh dear, no, we ca-" but Harry cut her off before she could get started. "Look Mrs. Weasley, people are sending me loads of gold each day-" Harry grabbed a small square parcel from the table and shook it; the jingling of coins was clearly audible through the thin cardboard. "And by my reckoning, after all the times you've had me at your house, all the help you've given me, and the friendship, you deserve much more than this Mrs. Weasley." Harry tossed the box towards her, which she caught, looking startled. "It's the least I can do," Harry said, a hint of a plea in his voice. He truly hoped that Mrs. Weasley wasn't too proud to accept his generosity, for he truly meant everything he said. The Weasley's deserved every Galleon he could give them, and then some.

Tears welled in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, and she enveloped Harry in a bone-crushing hug. Harry feebly returned it with one arm, his other pinioned against his chest by the force of Mrs. Weasley's hug. She released him and Harry came up for air, finally able to breathe. He caught a glimpse of her as she scurried out of the kitchen, apparently too emotional too remain.

Harry rolled his eyes, and looked over to Ginny, who winked at him. Presumably she had been inundated to this sort of behavior by years of living with Mrs. Weasley.

"I thought I was done with Hogwarts," Ron said dejectedly.

"Well, if you want a career Ronald, you'll need at least a _few_ NEWTs." Hermione explained crossly. "OWL's are fine and all, but if you want a _real _job, you'll need to pass your NEWTs."

Ron looked defeated, and sat down, perusing his supplies list. "Looks like more of the same." He muttered in a dejected voice. Hermione began searching for a letter opener so she could examine the booklist on her own. As soon as he was sure she was out of earshot, Ron spoke to Harry: "What'd'ya think I could do with just my OWL's?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to crush Ron's hope. "Not much, I reckon. I'll be heading back for sure. I think I might fancy the Defense job at Hogwarts, or maybe an Auror- but I'm sure you need NEWTs for both of those." He scanned his letter again, but saw no mention of what he wanted. "Doesn't say who the new defense teacher is," Harry remarked conversationally.

"Maybe it'll be someone halfway decent this year," Ginny speculated optimistically. "Umbridge, Snape, Carrow. Our last three haven't exactly been role-models for us."

"Well, there's always the DA if we get another incompetent," Harry joked, although the thought nestled himself within his brain. He _had_ enjoyed Dumbeldore's Army when he had led it during his 5th year. Perhaps there still was a place for it at Hogwarts, even if it wasn't going to be a necessity this year. He filed the concept in the back of his mind for further perusal, for Hermione had just let out a jubilant shriek that startled him out of his thoughts.

"It's the Head Girl badge!" she yelled, and sure enough, a small silver badge with "HG" engraved on it lay in her palm. What an odd coincidence that those were Hermione's initials as well. Harry thought it was, in a subtle way, very fitting.

"Huh?" Ron's voice carried over Hermione's shrieks of joy. "Oh, so that's what that is." He spoke with the air of one solving a great mystery, and Harry looked over to see him holding his own small sliver badge up to the light, puzzling over it as if examining it's authenticity. Hermione gave yet another yell and rushed over to Ron.

"OH! You've been made Head Boy as well?!" She asked with delighted glee in her voice. "Ron, that's brilliant! Good for you!" She hugged him, and dashed out of the kitchen, no doubt to tell Mrs. Weasley. Having no desire to be in the kitchen when Mrs. Weasley began her crooning, Harry discreetly slipped out of the kitchen through the adjacent back door, remembering how torn up he had been three years ago, when Hermione and Ron had received their Prefects badges at Grimmauld place. Now he simply felt happy for them and their triumphs. Harry continued his walk, taking in the Weasley's beautiful garden, and, serenely reflecting on how much he had grown up.


	3. Teenage Love and Less Important Matters

The next several days were a pleasant blur for Harry. He spent his days re-packing his school trunk, and making a list of the items he would need to buy at Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley was trying valiantly to maintain her normal cheery demeanor, but Harry could see that the death of her son was taking a toll on her. She would vanish for hours on end, and come back, her face suffused with an ugly pallor, and her eyes still puffy. George was faring worse, but Harry tried not to put much thought towards that dreadful topic. Percy seemed to have developed a bond of grief with his younger brother, perhaps because he had been there when Fred died, and he seemed to be filling the void in George's life. However, Harry had not seen George laugh once since the battle. But Harry put George's depression out of mind as he spent his days helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, riding on Ron's broom -for his prized Firebolt had slipped from the motorcycle on their flight from Privet Drive last year, and had never been found- reluctantly sorting through his massive amounts of mail, and simply spending time with his friends, for although he had been exclusively in their company for the last year, it felt as if he had not seen them properly for ages. 

As much as Harry was enjoying his time at the Burrow, he was more excited to return to Hogwarts. He had been dreading leaving it, for Hogwarts was his home, and the first place Harry had ever felt truly accepted. He knew he would have to leave eventually, but the chance to go back, with nothing hanging over his head, and finish his schooling gave him a warm, comforting feeling.

Harry's days passed so quickly and carefree, he was surprised to wake up one morning to find that it was his birthday. He had barely thought of it over the past week, yet here it was today. As Harry ambled off the stairs and into the kitchen, he stopped dead in the entrance, his jaw hanging open.

There was a pile of presents crowding the kitchen; the table was completely covered with them, stacked several feet high, and several had overflowed onto the floor, where George and Percy were shaking them, George with an anticipatory grin on his face. It was the first time Harry had seen George smile since the memorial, and Harry's heart warmed at the sight.

Ron, who was slower getting up than Harry, came off the stairs, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He walked straight into Harry, still frozen in the entrance to the kitchen. "Oi! What gives?" Ron asked angrily. Harry stepped aside wordlessly and pointed at the immense pile of presents on the table, which Harry was sure was larger than any Dudley had ever received.

Ron stood, staring for a moment, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he toppled backward, landing with a large crash on the floor of the Burrow.

---

After they had managed to revive Ron from his fainting spell (He insisted that he had been feeling ill for days), Harry set to opening his presents. There was an elegant green traveling cloak from Mrs. Weasley, which Harry secretly thought looked quite majestic; a gift certificate to Quality Quidditch Supplies from Ron ("You'll be needing a new broom for the season mate."); a box of prototype products from George; and a new bag for his schoolbooks from Hermione, seeing as his old one was getting rather small. The rest of the presents comprised of candy, spellbooks, sneakoscopes, gold, and other small items from Harry's admirers. Aside from one package that blew up as Percy was curiously examining it, all of Harry's presents were great, although he had gotten many duplicate items.

When at last Harry had finished opening all of his presents, thanking each person in turn, only one large, black and white Eagle Owl remained. "All right, where's your package?" Harry asked, in a slightly tired voice. The owl merely turned it's head quizzically at him, and hesitantly held out one of it's talons, on which the was attached a small note. Harry unfolded it curiously, and read it to himself.

_**Dear Harry,**_

_**I couldn't think of what to getcha, so I figgered you can't go wrong by a new owl. I bought ya your first one, remember? Anyway, his name's "Acrol", and I reckon that's all he'll answer to now. **_

_**Happy birthday Harry!**_

_**Hagrid**_

The idea of replacing Hedwig weighed heavy on Harry's heart, and he remembered with a twist in his gut, as the sidecar exploded into the night, him and Hagrid speeding away on the bike. It had been a year ago, but Harry wasn't sure if he was ready for a new owl. Hedwig had been a great friend to him, a symbol of comfort within the pallid and horrible Number Four Privet Drive; a reminder that he belonged, not to this world, but to another, far more fantastic place.

"I suppose it's a necessity," Harry thought to himself, handing the note to Hermione on his left, and holding out his wrist for Acrol, who hopped on obligingly, his talons digging slightly into Harry's skin. After all, it would be hard to answer any of his mail without an owl.

"Thanks everyone," Harry said, beaming at everyone in the room. "They're all great gifts."

They all returned the courtesy, and Hermione sent all his presents neatly soaring up the stairs and into Ron's room, where Harry had a suspicion he would find them alphabetized, neatly stacked, and probably even organized according to category. A little grin tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth, because he knew Hermione was both sufficiently skilled and obsessive enough to actually perform that feat.

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said with a wave of acknowledgement towards his friend.

Harry spent the rest of the day sorting through his presents with Ron and George, whom were fighting over anything Harry did not want or had gotten multiples of. Hermione was curled up on Ron's bed, reading a copy of _Total Transfiguration: Advanced Techniques _that covered their coursework for the upcoming year. She managed to acquire an old sneakoscope from Harry's birthday pile, and was waving her wand in a complex three-dimensional patterns above it, transfiguring it into different forms under the books careful instruction. She managed to return it to it's original state before Harry's birthday dinner, but he noticed that instead of the usual high-pitched whine, it now made a noise that sounded very much like the trumpet of an elephant whenever something untrustworthy happened.

Harry jammed it at the bottom of his trunk, hoping that the layers of clothes and spellbooks would insulate it's sound, and rushed downstairs for his birthday dinner, which was delicious as usual. Harry was grateful that there were no interruptions this year, painfully remembering his last two birthday parties, disrupted by bad news and the Minister of Magic.

It was an enjoyable evening, greatly enhanced by the quality of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, which was even more excellent than usual. A few old members of the Order of the Phoenix dropped by to give their regards, but none stayed long. After dinner, they all enjoyed cake, enchanted so that the miniature Quidditch players zoomed around on the surface, passing the quaffle to one another in their attempts to defeat he opposing keeper.

They all ate quickly, and after he had finished his cake, Harry excused himself from Mrs. Weasleys chaotic attempts at clean up. "I'm going to go take a walk," he called over the din of scraping plates, chairs, and Mrs. Weasley yelling at Ron to stop belching like that because it was disgusting. Harry silently made his escape from the kitchen, striding through the hallway and pushing open the front door without a sound.

The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, sprinkling its orange-red glow across the serene landscape. The light fell across the yard, casting it in a warm, ethereal light.

The Burrow's back yard was a beautiful thing, although Mrs. Weasley's best efforts couldn't keep weeds from creeping up in the rose garden, or miniature mischievous gnomes from nesting in the shrub bushes. A few rouge chickens wandered the yard, pecking at worms on the ground, or letting out irreverent squawks now and then, but they only added to the charm. Without thinking about his destination, Harry strolled over to the small frog pond near the fence, and sat down on the bench.

A small, dark green frog was sitting on a lily pad in the middle of the pond, staring up at Harry with its big glassy eyes. For a moment, Harry imagined the eyes flitted up to his forehead, lingering on his scar, as so often had happened over the past seven years. It seemed the one, inescapable fact about him, and the one everyone gravitated to: He was _Harry Potter_, the boy with the lightning-bolt scar. That was all anyone ever saw the first time he had appeared in Hogwarts, and he was sure it would be the same when he returned for the last time.

He found himself inexplicably drawn back to his memories of Gilderoy Lockhart, his pompous, self-obsessed, fraud of a teacher from his second year at Hogwarts. _"Fame's a fickle friend Harry, remember that," _Lockhart had told Harry once. Whatever else could be said about Lockhart, Harry found himself respecting the man for his knowledge of life in the spotlight: something Harry had never truly comprehended.

Not that the man's fame had done him anything in the end, as he now was a permanent resident of St. Mungo's long-term spell damage ward, without a memory, due in part to Harry and Ron. The defense job at Hogwarts had never been kept for more than one year as long as Harry was at school, due to Voldemort, but the more Harry thought about it, the curse certainly extended beyond how long a person could hold their job. Harry listed them off in his mind: Quirrel was dead at Harry's own hands. Lockhart had no memory. Lupin had died dueling Dolohov at the battle of Hogwarts. Mad-Eye and his imposter: Dead and soulless, respectively. Umbridge was imprisoned in Azkaban for crimes against muggle-borns. Snape was dead, and although Harry knew it had been for him that the man had died, he could not bring himself to feel grief for the person who had made his life hell for the past seven years. Carrows was dead, killed by one of his own students at the battle of Hogwarts.

His mind absorbed in the bloody history of his Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers; Harry did not hear the back door of the Burrow open, nor the soft footfalls of Ginny Weasley as she approached the bench where he sat. In fact, he did not notice her presence until she placed her small hand upon his shoulder.

Harry recognized the touch at once, and yielded the left side of the bench to the young witch. She grasped his hand as she sat down, saying nothing, serenely gazing at the small pod in front of them. The silence was perfectly comfortable, and they sat there for some time, hands clasped, both entwined in their own thoughts.

"Ginny?" asked Harry after a time.

She opened her eyes reluctantly, still dwelling upon her last thought. "Yeah?" she spoke with some trepidation.

"I know- I know these last couple weeks have been hard for you," Harry began, carefully skating over mention of Fred. "But I never told you what happened that night, and I think you deserve to know." Harry gulped, as if preparing to dive into very cold water. "The night Voldemort died, after we came out of the Room of Requirement- right after we kicked you out- we needed to find Voldemort." Harry was steadily increasing his pressure on Ginny's hand as he spoke, but she was hanging on his every word, and did not notice.

"He was in the Shrieking Shack, so me, Ron, and Hermione set out there, through the secret passage at the base of the Whomping Willow." Harry was sure Ginny knew of this secret, so he did not stop and explain. "We reached it quickly enough, but we were hidden under my Invisibility Cloak. Voldemort and Snape were there." Ginny gave a little noise of understanding, as if she guessed what came next. "Voldemort was talking to Snape about his wand, and how it wouldn't work properly. I think Snape knew what was coming, because he kept trying to go join the battle, but Voldemort wouldn't let him. The way Voldemort figured it, his wand wouldn't work right because Snape had killed Dumbledore, whom the wand had belonged to before." Harry shook his head. "He was wrong, but that didn't stop him. Voldemort told his snake to kill Snape- you saw the snake," he said, for Ginny had witnessed firsthand Nagini's demise at Neville's hands. Harry continued, "So the snake attacked Snape; it bit him on the neck, and blood was pouring everywhere. Voldemort said 'I regret it.' (Although I know he didn't) and left he shack." Harry glanced sideways at Ginny, who was looking aghast at the morbid tale.

"Snape was dying, his blood running down him in rivulets, pooling on the floor. I couldn't just leave him. I left the passage, and he saw me. He knew he was done for, but with his last bit of strength, he gave me some of his memories." Harry reached into the moleskin pouch on his neck, and pulled out a silver phial, which he handed over to Ginny, who turned it over in her hands, regarding it with reverence. "I guess that was about all he could manage, because right after that..."

"Well, he was dead." Harry concluded grimly. "So we hurried back to Hogwarts. He had pulled his forces back, and you defenders were regrouping." Harry remembered with painful clarity, George kneeling over Fred's head, the rest of the Weasley's gathered around him, grieving. "I ran up to Dumbledore's office- he has a Pensieve." Ginny looked confused at this latest sentence, no doubt she had never heard of a Pensieve. "That's a stone basin that you can view memories in." he clarified, and Ginny looked satisfied.

"Well, Snape left me an awful lot to look at, but in the end, his memories showed a discussion he and Dumbledore had once. Dumbledore knew he was going to die see, because of his hand, remember?" Harrry asked Ginny, and she nodded, clearly recollecting the injury Dumbledore had sustained the year before he had died. "He told Snape that Snape would have to kill him," Ginny gasped at this detail, but Harry forged on, "And that it would fall to Snape to protect the students when he was gone."

"But he didn't really do that!" exclaimed Ginny, outraged. "He ruled over the school with an iron fist. You weren't there! You don't know how awful he was! He even let the Carrows brutally torture his students!" Ginny abruptly stood up, indignant.

"Yes, he did," Harry said calmly, grabbing the crook of Ginny's arm, and pulling her back down to her seat with a gentle caress. "He was a bitter, spiteful man, and I have no doubt that he had few qualms about the way he did business. However, no one died at Hogwarts while he was headmaster, so, in a way, he succeeded in the mission Dumbledore set him. Not perhaps, as Dumbledore would have wished he do it, but the only way, I think, he knew how."

Ginny looked like she was about to argue, but perhaps she sensed that Harry had something graver to say, and she did not speak. "However, there came one more memory after that, er importance. You see, Dumbledore gave Snape a message for me." Ginny made another involuntary noise here, but Harry continued. "He told Snape to tell me that the night my parents died, the night he lost his body, a piece of Voldemort's unstable soul broke off of him, and latched on to me. That's why I can speak Parseltounge. In order for Voldemort to be truly defeated, I had to die, taking Voldemort's soul with me." Harry stopped for a moment to collect himself. Even now, it was hard to consider the thought that Dumbledore had done that to him.

"I emerged from his memories like a man in a daze. I grabbed my cloak, and the wand I had been using, and strode from the room, numb on the inside. My brain could not comprehend why he would do it to me, but still, I kept walking. I traveled under my Cloak, out through the Great Hall, shielded from questioning eyes, until I reached the Forbidden Forest. My enemy and his servants were there, clustered in a clearing, waiting. I removed my cloak, and threw myself upon my enemy's curse. I thought of you for my last moment, and then all was gone."

"I strayed out of place and time, and I wandered far down the path of acceptance. I was sent back, though how, I still don't know." Harry closed his eyes. "I don't understand it at all." Harry finished on that melancholy note, for Ginny knew what happened after that.

"So… you still have to die?" Ginny asked hesitantly. "For Voldemort to be finished?" A single tear ran down her pale cheek; Harry reached over and wiped it off tenderly.

"No. The part of him inside me died when he cast his curse." Harry's hand moved down to Ginny's chin, and he turned her face so he was staring right into her eyes. "We're free of him forever this time."

Harry reached his arm around Ginny's shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "I know the last couple weeks have been a nightmare for you, Ginny, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. And when you feel you're ready, I'll be waiting."

At his kind words Ginny pushed her body closer to his, pressing up against him and resting her small head on his shoulder.

"Thanks Harry," she murmured quietly, as they sat together, two silhouettes, hands clasped, looking quietly out towards the beautiful red sunset.

**A/N: **Bonus points if you tell me what this line is paying tribute to:

"I strayed out of place and time, and I wandered far down the path of acceptance. I was sent back, though how, I still don't know."


End file.
